


before the day is done

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Non-Linear Narrative, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She feels the runes light up her skin, inch by inch catching fire.  She screams before she blacks out. The name on her tongue is, “Allison.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	before the day is done

Marin draws the thick lines of the runes around her wrist, up her forearm, surrounding Allison’s swirling symbol tattooed just beneath her elbow.  It’s fading and Lydia has to close her eyes, shut off her mind a little, refocus.  Marin stops, "Are you sure?" she asks, but they both know the answer. "Absolutely", she says, with steel and permanency in her voice.  Marin nods, calm, impartial.

 

She doesn’t even know how it happened.  No, that’s wrong.  Lydia’s calculated it exactly, knows every step that happened, she made Stiles obsessively map it out for her, until their hands were bleeding and Stiles wrapped his arms around her until she could only barely feel the chill of her bones, the withering sunkenness of her organs. 

 

"This is going to fucking hurt", Marin says, bluntly with the curl of her lips.  She nods, she knows, this is why she didn’t have Stiles do it, or even Alan.  She needs it to be perfect, direct, precise.  She feels the runes light up her skin, inch by inch catching fire.  She screams before she blacks out. The name on her tongue is, “Allison.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Allison.”

“Hey, Lyd, is my target straight?”  She throws a dimpled smile over her shoulder, bow in hand.  Lydia runs her hands down Allison’s sides, presses her lips against the back of her neck, the slope of her shoulder. 

“Lydia,” Allison hisses, tapping her arm with her elbow, “we are not having sex outside.”

“Again,” Lydia grins against her shoulder.  Lydia can feel Allison roll her eyes; she does it with her entire body, tiny tremors tickling her skin.

“Again, Jesus Christ.”

Lydia taps her fingers against Allison’s hip and studies the target.  “A quarter of an inch to the right.”

“I love you,” Allison sighs, leaning into Lydia.

“Mmm,” Lydia hums, “you better.”

 

 

 

 

 

She wakes up surrounded by white.  She’s had this dream before.

 

“It’s not a dream,” a voice jingles from behind her.  She turns and is greeted with long black hair and green eyes so familiar it jars her.  “Laura Hale, I presume,” Lydia says, curt.

“The one and only,” she lilts, and then frowns.  “Except for my baby bro’s offspring.  Such a cute kid.”

Lydia taps her foot, impatient.  “So, I take it you’ve been watching us?”

“Don’t make it sound so creepy, Death Girl.  I’ve been merely…” she waves her hand, “ruminating.”

“Ruminating,” Lydia says blandly. 

“Ruminating,” Laura nods, “It’s a word.  Means think on, mull over, muse on, deliberate on, meditate on, puzzle over.  You know, _ruminating_.”

Lydia glares at her.

“Have you met my brother? Inventor of the glare, don’t even start with me, Death Girl.”

Lydia sighs, “I’m looking for my girlfriend.  Allison Argent, I’m sure you know her, since you’ve been _ruminating_.”

Laura’s smile slips a little.  “She’s here. She’s with the other ones.”

 _Other ones?_ Lydia wants to ask but Laura has disappeared and she’s surrounded by whiteness once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s white,” Lydia says dully.  Allison barks out a tiny laugh. 

“I know how absence of pigment annoys you or whatever, but they generally come in this color.”

Lydia brushes her fingers over the blank wall, “we could paint it.”

“That’s the idea, Lyds.”

Lydia shakes her head, annoyed with how her mouth isn’t saying what she wants it to.

“No, we could _paint_ it,” she brushes her thumb over the wall, like she does the canvases on her easel before she starts a project.  “Oh,” Allison breathes, “yeah. That would be amazing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The white is suffocating as she walks further into it.  Like it’s taking her breath from her, feeding on her remaining life, and it occurs to her that maybe it _is_.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice sighs from the right of her.  “Shut up, Vernon, Wonder Woman is always welcome in my domain.”

“It’s not your domain, Erica, it’s the fucking afterlife.  No one _owns_ it.” 

Erica scoffs, “Fuck that, it’s totally my domain.”

“It’s actually more of a between place, not an afterlife per se,” Lydia says absently.

Erica preens, like she’s proud, and Vernon smiles a little, as they fade into nothingness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Allison says.  They’re sitting on Allison bed, light shining in through sheer curtains.  She feels time stop a little, the breath between them lengthen and shorten.  It’s senior year and Allison has her fingers wrapped around dozens of college brochures.

“Allison,” she says, demands, and Allison sighs, slumps into herself and then straightens, looking Lydia in the eye, almost defiantly.

“I can’t lose you to fucking Harvard, okay? I can’t.  I haven’t dated anyone all year, you must know what that means.  And I get it if you don’t – but, fuck, no.  I know there’s something here and I. Can’t. Lose. You. Not again.”

Lydia surges forward, toppling Allison over, and bites into her mouth, trying to capture everything.  “I haven’t dated anyone, either,” she whispers.

“But-”

“Just you.”

 

 

 

 

 

Allison looks pale and limp, but she recognizes the smile, the hair cascading down her right cheek.

“Lydia,” she all but sobs.

“Allison,” she says, running to her, enveloping her, “come back. Please.  I can’t lose you.”

“Okay.”  Her tatoo surges with energy, darkening on her skin.

 

 

 

 

“I love you,” Allison laughs into Lydia’s hair.  They’re spread out on their bed, sheets strung out and covering only the tips of their toes.  Lydia runs a hand down Allison’s thigh and lower, lower.  Allison gasps, thrusting up to meet her hand.

“I love you,” Lydia bites into her skin.


End file.
